


A Slip Of the Finger

by Lost_and_afraid (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:43:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2488145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lost_and_afraid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are texting and John presses the wrong button ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slip Of the Finger

MILK

 

"Sherlock! Will you PLEASE come with me to get the groceries?!" John yelled at Sherlock, who was hunched over his microscope.

"Boring." The raven haired man replied. John rolled his eyes and stomped out of the flat. 

John huffed as he pushed a cart through the automatic door. He was greeted by the familiar faces of the elderly cashiers. John smiled at them, and was slightly cheered by the returned gestures. 'If only Sherlock would smile at me like that. God, he's such an annoying git.' The thought solidified his smile. He was walking the isles, halfheartedly throwing anything into the cart that looked appetizing in the least, when his phone beeped in his pocket, cutting through the deafening silence. He pulled out his phone (with a small bit of trouble), and looked at the screen.

'He's out getting the milk, Greg. Seriously, he's not ALL I think about... maybe :)' It was a text. From Sherlock. John smirked a little. He loved fate so much.

'Wrong person, Sherlock.' John typed quickly. He hit send, and stuck the phone back in his pocket, gently. He resumed his casual stroll down the isles, and waited for his phone to beep. When it did, John practically pushed down his pants because of how hard he shoved his hand into his pocket.

'Well, I've found that out by now. Delete these texts.' John smiled. Sherlock was an idiot sometimes

'As if. I'm lovin the smiley face:)' He replied, trying not to break down laughing. 

"Are you alright, dear?" Asked a woman, coming over and placing her hand on John's back. John looked up and nodded, his laughter choking him, and temporarily crippling him. The woman grabbed her child and walked off, probably a little frightened. John steadied himself. His phone beeped.

'Shut up. It's my.... signature.:)'

'And it's mine too. How are you holding up? Your thoughts of me to distracting? ;)' John sent. He didn't even bother to look over the text. He didn't see his typo. Sherlock did though. John didn't even have to wait thirty seconds for his phone to beep with response.

'Did you mean to text me that face?' Sherlock had texted back. You must know, John's phone was one of those crappy, old, flip phones. He couldn't review his texts, and he thought he had texted a :) instead of ;).

'Yes, of course. I totally meant it. LOL. I wont forget the milk.' John hit send. ':)' and again. He stuck his phone in his pocket, and stood on his tiptoes, opening the fridge, and he grabbed out the milk.


End file.
